Happy Birthday, Padme
by Gizzi1213
Summary: Obi-Wan has a surprise for Padme for her birthday. But surprises rarely turn out how they are planned!


Title: "Happy Birthday, Padme"  
Author: gizzi1213  
Rating: R  
Word Count: 4,638  
Pairing: Obi-Wan/Padmé  
Summary: Obi-Wan has a surprise for Padme's birthday.  
Disclaimer: It's all owned by George Lucas; I'm just playing in his sandbox.  
Warnings: This is unbeta'd, all mistakes are my own.  
Author's Notes: Lynda, don't expect a sequel. I've only got ONE Obidala in me…and barely at that!

Obi-Wan bent over, peeking into the depths of the oven to check on the progress of the shaak rib roast. Deciding that it was coming along nicely, he turned his attention to the various pots bubbling away on the top of the stove. As he peeked into each one, delicious aromas filled the air. He took a deep breath, savoring the scents. His stomach responded with an appreciative hungry growl.

"Someone sounds hungry."

He looked in the direction of the gentle voice and smiled, "My stomach is more accustomed to Temple food, not your delicious cooking." He paused, looking the petite woman standing in the open doorway over from head to toe. She was dressed in an elaborate ball gown of a deep blue green shimmer silk that hugged her body to perfection. The crowning glory was her hair designed into an intricate braided design with loose tendrils softening the look about her face.

"You look lovely, my Lady."

A broad smile spread across her face, "Why thank you, kind Knight. I appreciate the compliment, even if I know I only look lovely because I am dressed as Padmé," Sabé smiled.

Before Obi-Wan could respond to that statement the sound of the apartment door opening interrupted their conversation. The sound of Padmé's voice speaking to someone reached his ears next.

Obi-Wan and Sabé exchanged a furtive look.

"I'll wait here … you go spring your surprise."

Obi-Wan swallowed nervously. Sabé had convinced him this was a good idea. He only hopped that Padmé agreed.

Sabé watched him leave the room, noting how he tried to hide his trembling hands inside the deep sleeves of his Jedi garb. Padmé was right; he was perfectly adorable. More important than that, as far as Sabé was concerned, was the fact that he made Padmé happy. She had not seen her mistress seem so young and carefree in too long a time. The weight of her responsibilities sat heavily on her shoulders, but around Obi-Wan, her mistress positively glowed like any other young woman who was falling in love. And Sabé had no doubts that Padmé loved Obi-Wan, even if Padmé wasn't quite ready to admit it to herself.

"I will have to hurry if I am going to make the opera only 'fashionably late', Captain. Please wait here while I…" Padmé's voice trailed off as she suddenly spotted Obi-Wan hovering outside the door to the apartment's kitchen area.

"Obi-Wan! What are you doing here?" Padmé asked, surprise, confusion, and happiness all detectable in her voice.

"I was hoping to spend your birthday with you."

Padmé frowned. They had discussed this only a few evenings before. The Naboo Royal Opera Company was holding a special performance of one of Naboo's operas this evening and, as former Queen and current Senator of Naboo, she had to be there for the performance. It was irrelevant whether it was her birthday or not, whether she even liked opera or not, her social position required her attendance.

"Obi-Wan, I would love that, but, as you know, I must attend the opera tonight. We'll celebrate my birthday some other time." She crossed the room to stand in front of him. Lowering her voice so that Captain Typho could not overhear her, "I would much rather spend a quiet evening here with you, but…" she shrugged, leaving the obvious conclusion to the statement hanging.

Obi-Wan whispered back in the same fashion, "If that is what you wish to do, then why not do so?"

"Obi-Wan Kenobi, I can _not_ believe you are suggesting I shirk my responsibilities as Senator. How would you react if I asked you to not go on some mission the Council assigned you to simply stay home for your birthday?"

Obi-Wan grinned; it was exactly the reaction he'd expected from his question, and just the opening he'd been waiting for. "Ah, but our circumstances are very different, my Lady. I don't have a near perfect double."

Padmé looked at him sharply, "You are not suggesting I subject poor Sabé to the opera, are you?"

In answer, Obi-Wan merely used the Force to open the kitchen door, thankful that his apprentice wasn't around to see the Force used for such a frivolous application.

Sabé had been hovering around the closed doorway, waiting for her cue. As she had known would happen, the room's heavy walls, a feature of senatorial apartments designed to provide the senator with privacy while conducting business in the living room area, had kept her from hearing the conversation taking place; it was only when the door slid open that she knew it was time to make her appearance.

"Actually, it was Sabé who suggested I subject her to the opera," Obi-Wan replied, as Sabé made her entrance into the room.

Padmé stared in mute surprise at her handmaiden decoy.

"Are you ready, Sabé?

"Yes, Captain, I am."

Padmé's head whipped back and forth between Sabé and Captain Typho, "You too, Captain?" she asked.

Typho responded with a sheepish grin and a small shrug of his shoulders.

"I guess this explains why you did not seem concerned about my running late," she observed dryly. Not even waiting on his response she turned her attention toward Sabé and Obi-Wan. "Sabé…" she got no further before Sabé cut her off.

"It's your birthday, Padmé, you loathe the opera, therefore you shouldn't have to suffer through it." She walked over to Padmé and boldly gave her a quick embrace. "Stay home with Obi-Wan and enjoy yourself."

Not allowing her mistress any further opportunity to object, she headed for the door, calling back over her shoulder in her Padmé voice, "Come along, Captain, we do not want to be late."

Typho, for his part, merely rolled his eyes, gave Padmé a brief bow, and followed Sabé out the door.

An uneasy silence descended upon the room.

Obi-Wan waited nervously by the kitchen door. He still wasn't convinced that Padmé wouldn't be upset at having her plans rearranged.

"Well," Padmé said, "now that I've left for the opera, what do my at home plans for the evening include?" Her tone was light and teasing.

Obi-Wan smiled, "Just sometime home alone with me. A delicious dinner, maybe some dancing. Whatever you desire, it's your night."

Padmé eyed him closely. She didn't need the Force to know he was still feeling a little wary. She smiled and gave him a hug, snuggling her head under his chin. She was a perfect fit. When she felt his arms go around her, she sighed with contentment.

They stood that way for a few moments, just holding each other until finally Padmé pulled reluctantly out of his arms. "Let me just call Saché and get out of these heavy cloths and we'll have that delicious dinner you've promised me."

"Oh, hmmm, that may be a bit of a problem. I gave all your handmaidens the night off. I believe they all went out for a night at the clubs. I'm sorry, Padmé, Sabé assured me she'd thought of everything."

"She did, did she?" Padmé considered that statement. Just a few days before she had confided to Sabé that she was getting frustrated with Obi-Wan's perfect gentleman nature. She remembered Sabé's advise well, "He's a Jedi. All discipline and self-control. If you want him, you will need to be the aggressor." She remembered blushing at her handmaiden's brazen suggestion…and how she had blushed even more deeply when she had immediately dreamed up several scenarios.

Finding herself stuck in her heavy senatorial robes without a handmaiden around to help wasn't one of them, but it was obviously one of Sabé's. If she could put her life in Sabé's hands, then….

"I believe I have the solution. You'll just have to play handmaiden."

"Me?"

"There's no one else around, do you have another idea?" She didn't give him a chance to response, simply taking his hand and leading him off in the direction of her bedroom. He, however, seemed to have other ideas, coming to an abrupt halt just outside the doorway.

"Padme, this is highly inappropriate, I can't go in there."

"Would it be more appropriate for me to disrobe in front of you, and the huge windows facing all of Coruscant, here in the living room? The bedroom windows automatically change to an opaque shade when the closet door is opened, affording privacy." She could sense his hesitancy, written clearly in the scowl that formed on his normally placid mien.

Sighing, she dropped his hand, turning her back toward him. "This dress laces up the back, Obi-Wan. If I attempt to undo it myself, I'll only end up with knots on top of knots. Do you really want me stuck in this uncomfortable dress all night?"

Obi-Wan glared at the offending garment, making a mental note to speak with Sabé about her assertions that she'd thought of everything when she returned from the opera that evening. For now, he merely released a drawn out sigh, which Padmé obviously took as his capitulation to the situation when she said a quick "thank you" and proceeding into her bedroom. After a brief hesitation in which he reminded himself he dealt with Anakin on a daily basis, Padmé would be no problem by comparison, he followed her into the room.

He found her standing before the opened closet, the windows indeed taking on a smoky opaqueness before his eyes, as he watched Padmé rummage about her wardrobe. The closet, nearly as big as his entire bedroom at the Temple, looked as if it had captured one of Naboo's famous rainbows within its walls. Gowns and garments of every conceivable color, some natural, some he was convinced existed only through the art of the dye manufacturer, stretched from one end to the other.

Padmé frantically sorted through her clothing, unable to find a single suitable garment for the evening. Everything just seemed _wrong_. Either it was to elaborate, requiring at least the skills of one handmaiden to put it on properly, or it was to intimate, more lingerie intended to be worn directly to bed, or at least within the company of her handmaidens, than in the company of a Jedi Knight. Finally, in desperation, she turned to the garments folded on the closet shelves, her eye spotting a white pants suit that would have to do.

"Here we are. I knew there had to be something suitable in that mess somewhere," she said, turning to face Obi-Wan. "What?" she asked, baffled, seeing the amused look on his face.

"You. You own more clothing than ten Jedi would own in their lifetimes, and you can only find one suitable garment? What do you normally wear at home in the evening?"

Feeling suddenly defensive, Padmé reached behind her into the closet, groping blindly in the direction she knew her sleepwear was located. Feeling her hand settle upon a hanger, she whipped the garment out with a flourish saying, "This! This is what I normally relax in."

So focused was she on observing Obi-Wan's reaction to her normal mundane pajama set that she completely missed seeing the garment she actually held out for his inspection.

That is, until she heard his sharp intake of breath and heard him say, "Remind me to drop by unannounced some time."

Only then did she notice, to her horror, the scandalous bit of cloth she held. She felt her cheeks flame a shade of crimson to match that of the bit of lacy shimmer silk she'd shoved under Obi-Wan's nose. Quickly, she attempted to hide the offensive garment behind her, but Obi-Wan's damnable Jedi reflexes were faster. Not to mention his unfair advantage in using the Force to snatch the hanger from her.

She wanted to drop through the floor as he held the garment up, a wide lascivious grin spreading across his handsome face. "Well, Senator, you are full of surprises. All bundled up in meters and meters of material during the day, but, apparently, bare centimeters of lace in the evening."

Obi-Wan was enjoying himself, especially the look of horrified embarrassment on Padmé's flaming face. She looked more sunburned than a careless moisture farmer under Tatooine's twin suns. He made a show of fingering the flimsy bit of lace that passed itself off as a pair of panties to accompany the garment he held. If it could even be called a garment. The entire thing consisted of two black lacy shoulder straps, attached to a flame red bodice that laced from about the area of the wearer's navel to a deeply plunging neckline. The back was cut equally as low, exposing most of the wearer's back. The panties consisted of a small triangular bit of cloth that he was sure would only inflame the senses of any man to see her wearing it.

That thought brought a scowl to his face. He didn't even want to consider who may have seen his Padmé in that garment.

His Padmé?

That thought both alarmed him and sent a possessive thrill through him. When had he started thinking of Padmé as his? He knew he couldn't allow that thought to take root; Jedi were not allowed emotional attachments. And that was that.

He was interrupted from his musings when he felt the offensive garment tugged from his grasp.

"I'll just take this back now, I think," Padmé said, turning quickly away. Obi-Wan watched silently as she carelessly tossed the garment towards the rear of her oversized closet.

"Who was it for?"

"Excuse me?"

"Who did you buy that seductive bit of fluff for, Padmé?" Obi-Wan was surprised to hear the note of possessive jealousy in his voice. Hadn't he just reminded himself that Jedi are not allowed attachments?

Padmé could not believe the question. How dare he? What made him think he had the right to ask? The fact that she'd purchased the vulgar garment after being talked into it by Sabé, who insisted that sooner or later Padmé would be _very_ happy to have such a garment in her "arsenal", was none of his concern.

"I do not believe that is any business of yours, Obi-Wan Kenobi," she said, stalking over to stand just inches from him, an expression of intense displeasure gracing her face.

Obi-Wan sighed, knowing she was correct…Jedi do _not_ have emotional attachments…and knowing he'd overstepped his place. No matter how much it displeased him to think of some other man seeing Padmé adorned in that black and flame lacy confection.

"My apologies, Padmé. My concern is simply for your well being." _Liar, liar_ his mind screamed at him. "Males, as I've just proven, can be such …cads"

Padmé took in the contrite expression on his handsome face, sensing his sincerity. He really was just too adorable for words some times. Besides, if she was honest with herself, she'd rather liked the brief thought of Obi-Wan being jealous on her behalf.

"Let's just forget the entire incident, OK? Besides, I'm starving and I still need to get out of this dress." Without another word she turned her back to him, lifting loosely hanging rope braids of her hair up off the nape of her neck so he could undo the lacings to her dress.

Recognizing the wisdom of moving past the awkwardness of the past few minutes, Obi-Wan obediently bent to his task. The dress' laces, he soon discovered, were not done up in a simple crisscross pattern. Rather they were almost woven into the double layer the of dress, the overtunic not being an actual separate piece, as he'd thought, but cleverly sewn on in such a fashion to simulate a layered look. Now he understood Padmé's assertion that any attempt to do this on her own would only end up in layers of knots. He had both hands free, could see what he was doing and he'd still had to untangle a few created by his clumsy efforts at playing handmaiden.

Padmé repressed a sigh of frustration when she heard Obi-Wan mutter something about "blasted laces" for the third time. She was doing her best to stand still, but he was taking forever. She desperately wanted out of the confining dress. Not to mention undoing the headache inducing braids. She felt around her elaborate hairdo, searching for the numerous pins that held the heavy mass in place. As she pulled them out, the top part of her hairdo, a coronet of braids piled high on her head, tumbled down her back in chestnut braid ropes, quickly becoming entangled in both the dress' laces and Obi-Wan's fingers.

"Padmé, you're not helping the situation here," Obi-Wan growled in a voice laced with frustration.

"Sorry. Sorry. But they give me such a headache," she said, while gathering up the braids so their long length draped over her shoulder, giving her access to the ends, which she quickly started to loosen.

"If they give you such headaches, why not cut your hair?"

"Cut my hair!" Padmé cried, turning abruptly to face him, a look of genuine horror etched across her delicate features. Obi-Wan couldn't understand her reaction, it had seemed a perfectly obvious solution to the headache issue to him. He made the mistake of saying so.

He could only stand dumbfounded as he watched Padmé gather her hair up in what he could only classify as a protective embrace, as she continued to undo the braids by running her fingers through its hip reaching length.

"I could never cut my hair, Obi-Wan. I couldn't. I've always had long hair; it's so much a part of me I couldn't imagine what I'd even look like with short hair."

He could only shake his head in amusement. Here was one of the most beautiful women in the entire galaxy fretting over what her she might look like if she cut her hair. He found it perfectly adorable that the former queen and determined senator was so terribly feminine under all that steely political will.

"Trust me, Padmé, you'd look beautiful if you were completely bald."

"BALD!"

He couldn't stop the amused laughter that followed her outraged exclamation. "Bald," he repeated, as he gently turned her around so he could continue freeing her from her dress. He suppressed a groan of frustration when he saw the tangled mess the laces had become between Padmé's moving about and becoming entangled with her hair. Resolutely, he set about righting the mess.

It took some concentration to untangle the long silky strands of hair curling across Padmé's back, but eventually he succeeded, lifting the heavy mass over her shoulder. He couldn't help but notice the scent of her shampoo. It was light and floral and completely feminine. He drew in a deep breathe, just barely resisting the urge to bury his nose in the fragrant locks.

Padmé stood completely still as she felt Obi-Wan's fingers combing through her hair in his efforts to undo her laces. She couldn't understand her reaction to his ministrations. It wasn't like she was unfamiliar with someone's fingers raking through her hair, her handmaidens did it everyday. But there was something undeniably erotic and arousing knowing that the hands working so gently at freeing her were Obi-Wan's hands. Hands she knew could wield a lightsaber with deadly purpose were instead gently freeing the laces of her dress, the occasional brief touch of his calloused fingertips brushing against her back as he worked. She shivered lightly as his fingers again brushed teasingly against her exposed flesh as he gathered up her hair and draped it over her shoulder.

Obi-Wan felt Padmé shiver as he moved her hair, exposing half her back to the chill of the room. Not that he thought the room felt chilled at all, he was feeling rather warm.

"Are you cold? I'll hurry," he said, bending forward slightly as he did to better work on a knot, feeling her shiver once again.

Padmé shifted uneasily, slightly rolling her shoulders, as she felt Obi-Wan's warm breath against her exposed back.

The motion caused the loosened top half of her gown to drop forward just the slightest bit, allowing a gap to form along her sides. Obi-Wan couldn't help but notice that the gown was loose enough to allow him a brief glimpse of the curve of her breasts.

Which led to another startling revelation for the evening; the staid senator from Naboo went about senate business sans bra.

With a fortitude he would not have thought himself capable of, Obi-Wan forced his eyes back to undoing the laces. As he worked, he couldn't help but wonder how Padmé's creamy skin would look in the low cut back of the crimson and black lace trimmed lingerie discarded in her closet. Each tug of a dress lace had him picturing himself undoing the lingerie's laces from her breasts to her navel. His mind's eye filled in the details of pert, young breasts barely covered in crimson shimmer silk, her nipples hardened into eager peaks as he rolled them between his fingers, cupping a breast in each hand. They fit perfectly.

"Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan snapped his eyes opened to see Padmé's questioning gaze. Looking down he realized he had allowed his thoughts free rein. His hands had slipped inside her dress, his arms reaching around her, a breast filling each hand, his thumbs gently circling her nipples as they puckered under his touch.

He was about to snatch his hands away in horrified embarrassment when he felt Padmé's hands cover his through the material of her dress. Looking at her in confusion he was amazed when she shrugged, deliberately freeing her shoulders from the partially unlaced gown.

Padmé couldn't believe her own boldness. She'd been shocked into stillness when she'd first felt Obi-Wan's hands circling her waist and reaching up to cup her breasts. She had been about to pull from his embrace when his thumbs grazed across her nipples. It was her undoing. She'd never thought such a simple touch could cause such intense pleasure. She wasn't sure how long she'd stood there, allowing his hands to roam freely. It was only after she'd looked over her shoulder and realized he had no idea what he was doing that she'd finally spoken.

When she saw the horrified look on his face she immediately regretted breaking the spell. She boldly shrugged off the loosened gown, her eyes never leaving his, letting him see that she clearly knew what she was doing. It was as open an invitation as she could make without words.

Obi-Wan didn't need the Force to know what Padmé's actions meant. After what seemed like forever of patiently undoing the laces, he now fastened a firm grip around them and, with one determined tug, split the remaining laces opened. He heard Padmé's gasp of surprise at his actions but he saw no withdrawing of her interest.

Rather the opposite in fact. She turned completely towards him, her hands reaching for his outer tunic, which she was pushing from his shoulders. He reached up and grabbed her hands, pulling them around behind her back as he pulled her flush against him. He leaned down and claimed her mouth with his own, his tongue seeking, demanding entrance. He had his way when she gasped at the unexpectedness of his actions. He freed her hands as he placed his hands upon her backside, pulling her even more tightly against him.

After an initial moment of shock at the intensity of Obi-Wan's actions, Padmé relaxed against him, reveling in the feeling of his hard body pressed up against hers. She wound her arms around his neck, her fingers curling into his hair as she kissed him back as fiercely as he was kissing her. She never wanted it to stop, but finally they had to break apart, each gasping for breath.

There was a long moment of looking into each other's eyes. Something unspoken, something that couldn't be spoken because it was forbidden, passed between them.

It was Padmé who finally broke the silence with, "you have too many clothes on."

"So do you, but not for long," he said, stepping back just enough to provide room for her now fully unfastened gown to fall in a pool around her feet.

Padmé suddenly found herself standing naked from the waist up in front of him. She resisted the urge to cover herself with her arms, instead watching his beautiful blue green eyes as they raked possessively over her body. When they were once again fastened on her own, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her lacy thong and slowly pulled it down until it too dropped to the floor at her feet. Stepping out of the pile of discarded clothing, she again reached for him, "As I said, you have on too many cloths."

Stunned speechless by her boldness, Obi-Wan stood immobile as her hands settled on his utility belt, tugging it opening and dropping it with a heavy thud onto the floor. A part of him wanted to remind her to be careful in handling his lightsaber, but a larger part of him couldn't remember why that was even important at the moment.

His hands joined hers in unfastening his clothing. They ran into a bit of difficulty when they forgot to take his boots off before trying to remove his pants and they both ended up sprawled out on the floor, laughing at their own antics.

The moment of levity didn't last long. Lying side by side on the floor Obi-Wan pulled Padmé to him, her body lying pressed against his, her soft breasts crushed between them. Their lips met with surprising hesitancy after the frenzied disrobing. Slowly, the kiss built in intensity, tongues teasing and tasting in the age-old ritual of foreplay.

Suddenly Padmé pulled away, leaving Obi-Wan confused by her abrupt withdrawal. "Do you smell that?"

He could only blink at her; it wasn't a question he was expecting at this moment in time.

"Smell what?" The words had barely left his mouth when the sound of the smoke detector blared through the apartment.

"The roast!" Obi-Wan yelled, as he jumped to his feet and went running out to the kitchen, Padmé calling after him.

Obi-Wan was shocked to see the amount of smoke that was filling the living room. Choking and coughing on it, he made his way to the kitchen, where a huge cloud of acrid black smoke swept over him as he barreled through the door. Reaching out to the Force, he called the small handheld fire extinguisher to him from its storage location under the sink, thankful for Coruscant's strict building codes. He was about to use the extinguisher when the overhead fire suppressant system kicked in, quickly drenching the kitchen, and Obi-Wan, in a thick, gooey, white flame retardant foam.

He was just shaking the sticky stuff off when he heard hysterical giggles from the doorway. He turned to find Padmé standing there, all primly dressed in the white pants suit she'd selected earlier, holding out a oversized towel. He took it gratefully and began wiping the foam off as best he could, shooting Padmé threatening glares all the while as she continued giggling.

"You think it's funny? Look at this mess!"

"No, I don't think that is funny at all," Padmé said, although he noted she didn't stop giggling.

"Not to mention, we could have burnt down the building!"

"You're absolutely right, not funny at all."

Obi-Wan noted that she at least _looked_ like she was making an effort to stop laughing this time.

"Then would you mind telling me just what you find so funny in all this?"

"Ah, well, ruining dinner, not funny. Almost burning down the building, not funny. Finding you looking like a slightly melted Naboo snowman, that's priceless!"


End file.
